


The Way Back Home

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being back in New York was strange, like stepping into an old version of herself, complete with old habits and feelings and desires. </p><p>(Set after 1.14.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/gifts).



> Many thanks to Sherylyn for beta and Ameripicking.

Peter leaned against the car and breathed in the icy early evening air, trying to clear the stench of airplane smoke from his lungs, and the image of Neal back in prison orange from his head. To shake off the lingering sense of depression and failure.

“You okay, boss?” Diana’s hands were buried deep in the pockets of her parka. She frowned. “You want me to drive?”

Peter nearly said no, he was fine, but the truth was he wasn’t thinking clearly, and they didn’t need another tragedy today. He tossed her the keys to the Taurus and slid into the passenger seat.

When they were halfway to Brooklyn, Diana broke the silence. “You care about him.” There was no judgment in her tone.

“I’m responsible for him,” said Peter heavily. He rubbed his hands over his face. “No, it’s more than that. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Diana’s tone was steady, constant. God, he’d screwed up everything: Kate, Neal, even Fowler. And Diana.

“I shouldn’t have let you go off to DC.” 

“It was my choice to go.” Diana flicked him a glance. “It was for the best.”

“But if you could go back, would you make the same call again?” There were a dozen things Peter would change, if he could. Give more credence to Neal’s worry about Kate. Keep an open mind when El had talked about possible changes to their marriage, instead of reacting out of tradition, insecurity and fear.

Diana took the exit off the I-278 and pulled over, leaving the engine idling. “That would depend on my options,” she said seriously. “Peter, you don’t owe me anything. Hell, even if you did, you saved my life today. Call it even.”

“Fowler wouldn’t have shot you. A federal agent on federal grounds—he wouldn’t have dared.”

“You don’t know that.” Diana leaned back against the headrest. “He was pretty desperate. And if he hadn’t been wearing a vest—”

Peter reached across and took her hand. “Let’s just be glad he was.”

 

* * *

 

El went out onto the front stoop as soon as she heard the car pull up. She didn’t usually hover, but she’d received fragmented reports of the day’s events, and she needed the full story. She needed to see Peter and reassure herself he was all right.

But it was Diana who got out of the driver’s seat. Diana, strong and lean and competent. Peter followed a moment later from the passenger seat. “I’m fine,” he said, when he saw El.

“Mild shock,” Diana told El. “This is just a safety precaution.” She threw the car keys to Peter and came over, stopping two steps below El. “Hi.”

“Diana. Long time.” El bit her lip, quashing the fierce but inconvenient joy that sprang up at the sight of her. Peter had mentioned Diana was back in the city to help with the case, but El hadn’t been expecting to see her. She wasn’t ready. And Peter was right there. 

“Come in. I’ll make coffee.” El stepped back while she gathered her thoughts. 

Diana didn’t move. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” said Peter, coming up behind her, as if to herd her inside.

Belatedly, El looked toward the car. “No Neal?”

Peter tensed.

“The DOJ wanted him back in prison while the NTSB investigates the explosion and everything,” said Diana, matter-of-factly.

El was watching Peter. “Oh, babe. Is he okay? Are _you_ okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. _Better than Kate. Better than Neal._ El could see it in his eyes, as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

“You will be,” she said. “And so will Neal. He’s survived prison before. Diana, thank you for bringing Peter home.”

Diana shrugged it off and passed her to crouch down and say hello to Satchmo, who was exuding optimism by the hook where his leash hung. El wondered if gratitude were unwelcome. She hadn’t meant to emphasize their marriage, putting Diana on the outside again, but the facts hadn’t changed: Peter was her husband and always would be.

She grabbed his hand to draw him inside. “Hon, you’re freezing. Come on. Get upstairs and take a hot shower, and I’ll heat up some soup.”

He nodded, but didn’t get more than halfway up the stairs before he turned and came back down again. “I’m an idiot,” he announced. 

Diana looked from El to him and back again. “I’ll get myself some coffee. You guys should talk.” She started toward the kitchen.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “Make yourself at home.” He was calling after her, but his gaze was fixed on El’s face. 

El’s heart skipped a beat. “Hon?”

 

* * *

 

Peter and El’s house was just the same—still cozy, comfortably cluttered, and unremarkably domestic. Diana could hear their voices rising and falling in the next room, but she was determined not to eavesdrop. She whistled to Satchmo and took him out onto the patio. It was dark now and close to zero but still good to be outside where she could breathe.

Being back in New York was strange, like stepping into an old version of herself, complete with old habits and feelings and desires. Stranger still to see El standing on the doorstep like a Christmas angel, her hair loose around her shoulders, eyes wide with surprise at the sight of her. That frown marring her usually smooth forehead. 

_What were they saying in there?_

The last time she’d been here was just after Caffrey joined White Collar. Diana had minded Satchmo while Peter and El went to Belize to celebrate their anniversary, and they’d arrived home Sunday evening, sun-kissed and happy, with a thousand photos of white sand and jewel-blue seas, El giggling about an incident in a bar, something to do with Peter trying to sweet-talk a waitress into bringing him a devilled ham sandwich. 

Diana had laughed with them, enjoying their pleasure, glad to see them back. And then, stupidly, she’d let down her guard and touched El’s bare, tanned shoulder. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She should have known better. She had no right. And they’d been nice about it, painfully nice, and El hadn’t exactly turned her down. But it was very clear Peter believed the only workable form of polyamory was a triangle, and much as Diana loved Peter as a friend, as _family_ , that just wasn’t on the cards. And El was married to Peter. Diana would die before she came between them. So she’d left. Transferred, as quickly as possible. It had been the right thing to do.

And now—what? Peter clearly cared about Caffrey, though it was unclear how that could work, given Neal’s parole arrangement, even if they could get him out of Rikers again. And El had been shocked to see her. Moved, Diana thought. Maybe there was a new arrangement that would satisfy Peter’s need for symmetry and fairness. Or maybe he was learning the value of flexibility. 

Should Diana really consider getting involved in a relationship that included Neal Caffrey, however tangentially?

The door opened behind her and she turned to see Peter and El standing there, solid and immutable, and she knew that the question was moot. She was telling herself fairy-stories, conning herself like a professional scam artist. The idea that the Burkes would ever open their marriage was impossible. They had each other—and it was plain in their very beings that each other was all they needed.

She should go.

“Diana,” said Peter, his voice quiet and sure, “is there any chance you’d consider moving back to New York? We missed you.”

“We did.” El held out a hand, her smile wistful, her eyes impenetrable in the night.

Diana took a half-step forward before she could stop herself. Then she remembered. “Nothing’s changed.”

“I’ve changed,” said Peter.

Like a sign, snowflakes began to drift down, swirling in the air, and El left the shelter of Peter’s arms and surged forward to cup Diana’s face and kiss her, sweetly, insistently. “Please stay,” she said breathlessly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Diana wrapped her arms around El’s waist and held her tight, everything she hadn’t been letting herself want. She breathed in blindly, then opened her eyes and looked up to see Peter smiling at them, all warmth and love. 

“Okay,” said Diana. She kissed El again, pouring six months of pent-up feelings into it. She was almost panting when she pulled away. “Okay, yes. We’ll figure it out.”

 

END


End file.
